


Sleight of Hand and Twist of Fate

by elizabethnotbennet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Soulmate-Identifying Timers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24514561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizabethnotbennet/pseuds/elizabethnotbennet
Summary: Severus Snape still had decades left on his timer when he first fell in love. Hermione Granger's final seconds passed as she entered the Great Hall for the first time.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 15
Kudos: 161
Collections: Hearts and Cauldrons Discord Members





	Sleight of Hand and Twist of Fate

**Author's Note:**

> betaed by the amazing [oihermione](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oihermione), but any mistakes still here are, as always, my own

When Severus first realizes he may fancy Lily, he looks down at his wrist foolishly hoping it will show something different than what he knows is there. It doesn’t, and his timer won’t run out for years still, _decades_ even. It devastates him, but it’s not until after his O.W.L.’s that he carves the thing out of his wrist.

* * *

The first time he stumbles over a spell that would show him his soulmate is while he is studying for his end of year exams, a year later. It’s not exactly a spell, more like a ritual. It would take several weeks to complete, and he would need to do it out in the open while under the moonlight. The thought of preparing a protective circle and a ritual fire on the grounds, where the marauders could just stumble into it any time, was enough to make him stop considering it.

It wasn’t enough to make him stop thinking about it, though. Soon enough he’s researching every book he can find in the library, trying to find any kind of spell or ritual he could actually perform while safely within Hogwarts. It’s not until they’re reviewing the structure of the Patronus charm with Flitwick that he is able to con a professor into giving him access to the Restricted Section. He finds it in one of the books Professor Flitwick had recommended, in fact. “ _Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes_ ” is one of the first records of the Patronus, and it also happens to contain multiple love spells. There’s a note in the margins on one of the first love charms in the book, a tiny script that could have very well been his. “If lost, page 158.”

Empathy links are considered dark magic, which is why it isn’t found anywhere in the Hogwarts curricula. It is an ancient type of magic, and most of the time it bounds the lifelines of the people involved. It means if one of them gets seriously injured, their link can feel it. If one of them gets killed, their link will follow. Severus pauses, considers not even reading the spell. But it’s the first good lead he’s found in months, and there’s no harm in _reading_ it.

In the end this empathy link doesn’t bound the people involved, which is a relief. Severus doesn’t believe he could have stayed away even if it did.

* * *

He had the whole section copied that day, and goes after finding a safe place to perform it. Naturally there were a number of different hiding spots he knew well enough, hiding from the marauders wasn’t unusual for him. But most of those were alcoves, unused hallways, or secret passageways. There’s a strange room on the seventh floor, but he’s not completely sure it’s secret enough. It seems to him the room is in fact used frequently, since every time Severus had walked into it it looked completely different.

Upon entering it this time, it was practically bare. All it contained was a comfortable looking armchair by a large window. The door had different kinds of locks, sliding bolts and even a piece of strong looking wood to barricade it. It made him feel safe enough, so he took his notes out and sat on the chair, fighting against all his instincts to consciously do something that would leave him vulnerable for an unknown amount of time. Luckily it was a Saturday, so at least there was very little chance he would end up missing a class because of this.

It’s a simple enough spell, and Severus’ face quickly goes slack, his body taking on a more relaxed stance. Anyone looking at him might think he was having a fit.

He sees nothing. It’s like he’s floating in space, an infinitude of dark, but no light coming from anywhere. He is completely and absolutely deprived of any of his senses, not even the sound of his own heartbeat or of his own blood rushing through his body can be heard. He tries looking down and bringing his hands in front of his face, but it’s as if he is a nonphysical entity. Time ceases to exist. When he finally returns to his body, it is one of the first times he feels glad to be alive.

It takes everything he has to repeat the experiment the following week. Maybe they were unconscious? On dreamless sleep? He tries to remember if there’s anyone in the hospital wing, and vaguely recalls the faces of the two people involved in the last quidditch accident. The only other option… There was no way his soulmate was _dead_ , right? He was _sixteen_.

But the result is the same empty void.

* * *

When Hermione gets the visit from Professor McGonagall, she makes a quick calculation in her head. There’s 348 days until September the first. Approximately 8.352 hours. She glances down at her wrist and asks McGonagall to give a minute-by-minute schedule of the day.

When the day _does_ come, and Hermione can finally see the minutes on her wrist, she tries very hard not to make any calculations. Minerva had told her, almost a year ago, that most people in the british wizarding world have their timers run out when they first enter the great hall. It’s not enough to discourage her though, so she goes on creating different scenarios and grand expectations. When Susan Bones entered the cart Hermione had chosen, it took her a few minutes until it struck her. _This could be it._ She glanced down hurriedly, trying really hard not to see the numbers. Not at zero. This routine kept on going, and each time she’d glance down and see the counter had not yet reached zero

By the time Ernest Macmillan had entered and introduced himself, Hermione couldn’t help it anymore. Her heart sank. Her counter would run out at about the time she was scheduled to enter the Great Hall with the other first years. Trying very hard not to cry, she looked out of the window and took great big breaths. Someone caught her hand, and she turned to Hannah Abbott, the girl who’d occupied the seat beside her.

“It’s alright not to know. Most of us never know for sure.” Hannah whispered, and it did strangely make Hermione feel better. Maybe she _did_ belong to the wizarding world after all. But then she caught sight of the girl’s timer, showing only ten seconds, and could not keep the betrayed look that took over her face. Hannah didn’t catch her look, she was too busy craning her neck trying to see anyone walking down the hall outside.

When Neville came in saying his toad was missing she’d leapt at the opportunity to meet as many people as she could while still on the train. Each cabin she’d enter she would take her time introducing herself and looking at each face in turn. Hermione’s visual memory was incredible, almost photographic memory, but this was too important— she wasn’t taking her chances. Later that night she walked into the Great Hall knowing at the very least it wasn’t anyone from her year. Neville had found the damned toad before she could introduce herself to the whole train - and she would have done it, too.

* * *

It was almost a month after Ron left, and once again Hermione had sent Harry inside to sleep and taken over his patrol. She had been thinking about Ron the whole day, missed opportunities and a now unlikely future. She would not cry, but she would _definitely_ not do it in front of Harry. Hermione had known Ron wasn’t her soulmate since that first train ride, but still. Maybe they could work it out despite that, right?

Suddenly she recalls McGonagall’s voice, all those years ago, “Don’t despair, child, there are other ways, you know?”, and she opens her bead bag, summoning the oldest spell books she can find.

She finds it on “ _Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes_ ”, and by the time she’s prepared herself the sun is coming up and it’s almost time to trade places with Harry. It’s not that tricky, really, but it _does_ make a shiver run down her spine. The thought of daydreaming suddenly makes her feel queasy, the book makes it sound much more ominous than the regular kind. But then again, this might very well be her last chance to know for sure. She goes through the motions and whispers the words before she can think herself out of it.

The first thing she notices is the rhythmic sound of feet hitting snow, and the regular breaths of someone who is clearly used to this kind of exercise. The next thing is the smells. Forest and fresh snow are more prominent, but she catches herbs and mint (toothpaste? Is he a muggleborn?) and a hint of spice. The image is just coming together, and she sees the Black Lake in the background. It seems darker than where she is but the snow reflects whatever little light there is well enough to see a dark figure running, long legs and a very tight fitting shirt that build the image for a _very_ tempting body. She’s starting to realise, in the back of her mind. It’s not as much of a shock as she might have thought. His face is _almost_ clear enough to recognise when Harry shakes her back into reality, breaking the link.

“Hermione!?” He looks pale and worried.

“Sorry, I was…”

“We _really_ should not be wearing this thing around our necks.”

“Yeah” she’s breathless and her heart is pounding.

Hugging the book to her chest and pulling the bag closed, she heads back inside before Harry calls her, “Hermione, don’t forget to take it off.”

* * *

There’s something in the back of his mind. Almost like a stray thought, as if someone’s suggesting him something. It’s not legilimency, he’s trained enough to recognise and fight that. Something makes him think of reverse occlumency which frankly makes no sense. It’s distracting enough to make him want to head back inside. He’s fighting it properly now, putting up all the mental shields he can think of, and quick thinking makes it clear the nearest enclosed space is Hagrid’s hut. The Forbidden Forest is close enough, but there’s too much chance for more problems than solutions arising there. Besides, breaking and entering is hardly the worst thing he’s ever done. He has just enough time to walk in and close the door before the image assaults him.

It’s crystal clear. Hermione Granger sitting back against a tree, a tent behind her. He’s panicking now, because _what the fuck_ and _of course this would happen to_ me _._ He _cannot_ know where they are. Absolutely not.

In the image projected into his mind he can feel the fierce concentration on her mind, her sure wand movements and something about the words she whispers is familiar. Her face goes vacant and she starts to relax the hand propping up the book in front of her. “ _Olde and Forgotten -”_ but somehow he knows the title goes on with, “ _Bewitchments and Charmes”._ Just as he’s starting to make out what’s on the page Harry Potter walks into the image and shakes the girl out of it. Not quickly enough, though. The title “ _Soulmate Empathy Link,_ ” is just distinct enough for him to read.

He comes back to Hagrid’s thankfully empty cabin, and his brain is running at about a thousand miles per hour. There’s enough detail in the background to make him suspect they’re in the Forest of Dean, _if_ this isn’t some kind of trap. Which it probably isn’t, because he knows that spell and- _He knows that spell. The_ Soulmate Empathy Link.

“ _Fuck.”_


End file.
